


Guest

by whiteroses77



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Smallville
Genre: First Time Bottoming, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-12 17:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13552065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteroses77/pseuds/whiteroses77
Summary: It’s time for festive spirits, but for Bruce this year it’s quite literal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the timing of this, I wanted to finish Twain, and my updated stories, so the setting is a month late, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

TITLE: Guest 1  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,512  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: It’s time for festive spirits, but for Bruce this year it’s quite literal.

~B~

In the function room within the Wayne Foundation building, he sipped at non-alcoholic eggnog as he watched on as the chaperones shipped another lot of kids to the next festive activity. He watched as those same boys and girls squirmed and turned about gazing forlornly back towards their surprise visitor, who was entertaining another group of urchins at the moment. The kids were all smitten and Bruce was grateful that his teammate had agreed to attend this seasonal event. 

He’d mentioned the party to his friend in passing, after a moment’s hesitation Superman had offered his services. Bruce hadn’t been angling for the offer but he’d taken him up on it readily. Everyone looked up to Superman, and if their favourite superhero showing some interest in them could inspire these hard luck cases to reach higher than their beginnings then that could only be a good thing.

Bruce watched from a distance as Superman sat in a chair and talked to the boys and girls, most likely giving them a pep talk in that comforting down to earth tone that he used when he wasn’t facing down the scum of the universe. He saw him perform his abilities, receiving ohs and whoas, though about all the kids were only interested in his strength and his flight. Those were his flashier powers in his arsenal. 

He saw a smile light up Superman’s handsome face, a moment before he happened to glance Bruce’s way with those aquamarine pools of warmth, and as their gazes met, his smile got a little bit brighter. Then the hero returned his whole attention to the kids. A few minutes later, that last group of kids were moved on. The chaperones gathered all the kids from the different groups together and led them off for the meal catered for them by a quality company of Alfred’s choosing. 

As they were led away, Superman stood up, and walked on over to him. As he approached he felt the atmosphere around him change, and heard a flurry of breathy ‘oh!’ and under the breath hums. He glanced around and saw that the man of steel was the focus of a feminine collective of admiring looks from volunteers and employees alike. 

The grownups were as smitten with the superhero as the kids were but for completely different reasons. Conscious of the many adults still hanging around now the kids were gone, he greeted the hero with mischief, “My Superman, the kids were very impressed.” He took a sip of eggnog, and then uttered flirtatiously, “They weren’t the only ones.”

Superman’s eyes widened slightly. Bruce smirked inwardly at ruffling his feathers. Then Superman segued, “I enjoyed meeting the children. Though they kept asking me where my best friend was.”

Unwittingly, Bruce blinked and then asked, “And who is that pray tell?”

Superman’s eyes sparkled and he chuckled, “All the kids seem to think that Batman is my best friend.” His own eyes widened, and he remembered Superman glancing his way before. His teammate urged, “They said they could tell because when the Justice League is on the news, we’re always standing next to each other.” 

As he recovered from the disclosure of that little observation, he noticed the delight in his teammate’s eyes. So in response, he tittered and replied, “Who could blame him for staying as close to you as possible, he’d have to be crazy not to.” He saw that Superman was taken aback by him returning to the flirtation. Delighting in the idea of making his oh so courageous teammate skittish, he let his eyes linger over his tight uniform covered body, just as the women around them had and said, “You’re a very striking man, Superman.”

He heard a snort or a snigger here or there around them, people of his acquaintance expecting and even taking pleasure in his faux pas. Then he watched as Superman blinked slowly, before he said with poise and a smile, “Thank you for the compliment, Mr Wayne.”

Honestly, he was surprised and a trifle disappointed that his attempt at unbalancing him hadn’t worked and he had taken his flirting in his stride. It seemed that he had misjudged his friend’s tenacity when it came to handling unwanted attention. Then again, with his otherworldly good looks and magnetism he probably got offers all the time.

Instead, Superman held his gaze for a long moment, and then he said, “It’s been a great evening Mr Wayne, however, I think I better push off.”

He nodded along, “Of course, we can’t hog all of your attention, though we might like to.”

Then Superman uttered quietly, “You certainly got it.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, and then motioned to the exit. Superman turned and acknowledged the other volunteers. “You’re doing a very good thing here. I hope you enjoy your holidays. Bye.”

Superman gave a little wave at the adoring smiling crowd. Then he accompanied Superman outside.

~*~

It was quiet out on the street, as they stood together on the stone steps. The evening had drawn in and the streetlights bathed them in soft orange luminesce. He turned to his friend and with sincerity, he said, “I meant it, thank you for coming, the children really did love your presence here.”

Fondly, Superman met his gaze and nodded, “I was happy to help. If my parents hadn’t found me, I could’ve been in a situation like those kids or worse. But I was lucky.”

Bruce gave him a small meaningful smile. “Everyone was lucky.”

A bright flash of a white smile was shot his way, and then it softened, until his friend swallowed slowly and then stepped in closer to Bruce. Superman breathed, then glanced around the empty street, and then returned his gaze to him. Then he murmured, “What you said in there… I think you’re stunning too.”

Bruce’s breath rattled through him as he felt his world turn upside down. At his silence and stillness, Superman began to close the gap between them. A tremor shook his body, and he revealed, “I was… Clark, I didn’t…”

At his stutter, his friend smiled, and cooed, “You didn’t…”

He whispered, “Mean it.”

He saw the emotions infuse his friend’s eyes so close, surprise, pain, and queasy realisation. Then Superman stumbled back a step as he moved away out of his personal space. He glanced around not knowing what to do with himself. Finally, he met his gaze again and he saw the blush of embarrassment flush his cheeks. He also saw tension run through his jaw, and he saw in his frame his urge to verbally lash out and blame him for the misunderstanding. 

He saw him get that reflexive urge under control, and then Clark snorted softly to himself. He gave him a smile that was a shadow of its former self, and he said, “I’m sorry, I just…” he stuttered to a stop and then asked, “Can we just forget that that just happened, pretend I was drunk or something.”

Roughly, Bruce cleared his throat, “Of course, I’m sorry for any misunderstanding too.”

Superman nodded, and then Bruce watched his teammate take to the skies with no further ado.

Left on the stone steps alone, Bruce scrubbed at his own face with his hand. God that was awkward. Part of him blamed himself for flirting with him in the first place, but the other part blamed Clark, they’d been working together for quite a while now, and they were friends and he would’ve thought his friend would know not to take what he did as society Bruce to heart. Not that this event was society but even so, shouldn’t he know that what he said in front of a crowd of people wasn’t personal.

The more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself that it was Clark who was in the wrong. Clark had embarrassed himself, he had embarrassed both of them, and it wasn’t Bruce’s fault.

~*~ 

A few days later, Batman was in a precarious situation, he was dying of embarrassment. Even as the deadly missiles came at him over and over, some he dodged, and some had literally taken him off his feet. He was chagrined to think that other superheroes didn’t have to put up with the absurdity of facing foes dressed as maniacal snowmen shooting him with snowball looking cannonballs out of rocket launchers. 

It wouldn’t be so bad if he was fighting Mister Freeze, at least there would be a twisted excuse, but Victor Fries was locked away. The leader of the gang danced around with a Santa hat plonked on his crazy head with tufts of green hair sticking out here and there. He jeered, “What’s wrong bat-scrooge don’t you want to play my reindeer games, tis the season you know.”

He pleaded internally, ‘Please don’t let there be real reindeers.’

Joker had returned to type and attempted a bank robbery, determined to fill his Santa sack with loot. Batman had arrived to a hail of white cannonball. He leapt out of the way and most of them missed but a couple had hit him, and he was sure without his armour he would’ve had an injury or two. It was a cliché but Batman intoned, “You can’t get away with this.”

His archenemy cackled in response. “Batsy, Batsy, Batsy, I need this money to make up for all the presents that Daddy never bought poor little Jack.”

He said grimly, “Only good little boys get a present, Joker.”

“This year I think you need some coal in your tights, Batsy.”

Joker made a sign, and then the snow henchmen began shooting again, but this time the launchers shot out small black missiles. It was only when they began exploding around him that he realised they were tiny acid grenades. He dived out the way. While he was down, another volley was sent his way. He didn’t have time to move and prayed that his armour would protect him.

Then suddenly, his vision was filled with red, and the grenades stopped in mid-air and the Joker was screeching maniacally at his defeat. Batman got to his feet and he came to stand next to his red caped friend. He watched, still kind of in awe even after all this time, as Superman crushed the grenades between his palms, and the sound of the explosion was muffled in his hands. He gave him a silent nod of thanks. 

Joker wittered, “Goody two shoes, I bet Supey-baby always got what he wanted for Christmas, didn’t you. Didn’t you?”

Superman glanced sideways at Batman, and muttered, “Not every year, Joker.”

Batman felt the unsubtle dig in his ribs with that remark. Outwardly, he remained calm but inwardly, he was peeved that his friend was still annoyed by his rejection the other night. 

“Aw too bad.” Joker sympathized. “Let me cheer you up. How about a jolly old bat.”

Again, the snowmen launched something that he knew from Joker’s words contained Joker venom from the rocket launchers. Superman stepped forward and ordered Batman, “Stay back!”

Well that just pissed him off, this was his town, his archenemy, and he’d modified his suit to dispense a shot of anti-venom in case of situations like this. He didn’t need his damned protection. Rashly, he stepped out from behind Superman; suddenly he was taken off his feet by the concentrated gale force blast of breath. As he flailed through the air, only then did he realise that his friend was using his super-breath and blowing the dangerous cocktail back at the gang. 

The force slammed him against the bank’s exterior wall, his head ricocheted off the brick, and his consciousness turned to blackness.

~*~

The presence of the outside world, echoed tiny and tinny as if from a great distance. He could make out a steady beeping, and a strange gusty sound. He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t. There were voices, voices that he knew. “… under until the swelling has gone down.” a steady calm one said.

“How long will that be Doctor?” the other asked in a raw breathy tone. He knew the usually stable voice now filled with pain. 

He heard a swish, and then another familiar voice was there, this one younger and angry, “What the hell happened. Did Joker do this?”

There was silence, and then, “No, Dick it was me, it was my fault.” Now guilt partnered pain in the rawness of that voice.

There was something, something he couldn’t remember, something he wanted to say. He couldn’t open his mouth to speak. He couldn’t remember but he knew that that statement wasn’t right. He was trapped yearning to tell him, ‘No not you, it was my fault.’

The angry voice became higher pitched in its incredulousness, “Your fault, Clark. What did you do?”

Footsteps paced, closer and then away, and then Clark explained, “I heard him in trouble… fighting alone…”

“I was out.” Defensive almost. “I didn’t know he was going to go out and face Joker’s gang by himself.” 

Quiet, soothing, “It’s okay, I know, I wasn’t blaming you... I just heard him in trouble, so I went to help. I told him to stand back but… I don’t know maybe he didn’t hear me.”

“Or maybe he didn’t listen.” Dick deduced. Clever boy. “He’s stubborn.”

A small chuckle, “I know that.” a sigh, “He just stepped out into the path of my super-breath.”

“You froze him?” Shocked.

“No, no, I… it just blew him out of its path and he hit the wall… with his head.”

“Shit!” a few years earlier and he'd have reprimanded him for the curse.

“Yeah.” Clark concurred.

Then Emil revealed, “We’re monitoring him, and I induced a coma until the swelling has gone down.”

Dick asked, “When will that be Dr Hamilton?”

As Emil answered the query again. He inwardly rolled his eyes, in some ways Clark and Dick were much alike. He heard the swish again as the doctor left. Then he heard Dick, now calm say, “Come on don’t worry so much. He’ll be up and out of that bed in no time. He hates doing nothing.”

There was a soft harrumph and then he felt a so strong hand take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. Clark urged, “Come on Bruce. I know you can do it.”

At the squeeze, Bruce felt something, he didn’t know what until, footsteps began walking away, and as the door swished open again, Bruce was dragged up into a sitting position before being pulled off the bed. With surprise, he stumbled and caught himself. He glanced back at the bed, and saw himself still lying there. He frowned with consternation and then he turned and gazed at the door that his friends had just exited. 

“What the hell?” he wondered.

 

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Guest 2  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,643   
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Bruce has a lot of figuring out to do.

~B~

A moment later, he felt a tug, suddenly he was in the corridor of the Watchtower, and he saw Clark and Dick up ahead, just before they turned a corner. He took a deep breath and then he set off after them. He caught up with them just as they entered the cafeteria. He watched as Clark and Dick got a sandwich each and then sat down at a table to eat them. 

He reached out and tried to grab Dick’s shoulder, “Hey.”

He was unbalanced as his hand went straight through Dick’s shoulder. Bruce pulled his hand away unnerved. He studied his sidekick. There was no response, no reaction at all, to his touch or his words.

What was going on?

He was helpless as well as bodiless at the moment. He paced the cafeteria, as his friend, and his sidekick had a snack, while his own comatose body was a few corridors away. He wasn’t able to make contact physically nor verbally. And he didn’t know what he was going to do, or how this was happening. Was it an out of body experience? Was it a dream? Or was it astral projection? If he’d been a metahuman he might’ve thought it was a power that he’d developed, but what good was a power when you couldn’t affect anything around you.

At the moment, his musings were getting him nowhere, and so he returned his attention towards the people sitting there tucking into their sandwiches. Dick was saying, “…Joker now?”

Superman wiped a crumb from the corner of his generous lips before he spoke, “In a holding cell at Gotham PD, they had to give them the anti-venom and let them recover before charging them.”

Dick nodded along, “That’s what you were doing, blowing it back on them, nice move.”

The red caped figure shrugged and winced, “I thought so, give them a taste of their own medicine. But then… Bruce got hurt…”

Unseen, Bruce winced too, it had been a good move, if only he’d listened to Clark’s warning, instead of letting his pride force him to make a mistake like that. His sidekick agreed with him unknowingly, “In all the time we’ve been working together, Bruce rarely makes mistakes like that. He’s even drummed it into my head to be aware when fighting alongside powered individuals; that they might use their powers in unexpected ways. I just don’t know why he didn’t listen to your warning.”

Superman sighed. There was a moment where he looked as if he was struggling for a reply. Then he put his sandwich down and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. Then he uttered quietly, “We had a minor disagreement a few nights ago…”

Bruce cringed, “Don’t tell him, for god’s sake, Clark.”

His friend’s jaw tensed, and then he fell silent.

Dick’s brow creased, as he asked, “What kind of disagreement?”

Superman licked his lips nervously, “It doesn’t matter… I just think Bruce would rather not see me at the moment.”

Dick Grayson shook his handsome head with bafflement, “You’re his best friend, why would he not want to see you?”

His teammate laughed hollowly, “Best friend…?”

At the same time, Dick and Bruce confirmed, “You are.”

Superman snorted.

Bruce felt slighted at the denial, but it was Dick who questioned, “Don’t you feel the same way?”

His friend harrumphed, “Of course, he’s my best friend; I’ve felt that way for a while now. I just don’t think Bruce feels the same.” 

His sidekick rolled his eyes, “Was it you who got bumped on the head. Man, it’s obvious when you’re around him.”

Superman replied wryly, “I haven’t seen Bruce when I’m not around.”

“Aha.” Dick replied. “But it’s true Clark, you…”

“What…?” he asked curiously.

“You soothe him, soften him, god I don’t know what I mean… but I’ve seen it.”

Superman tilted his head and scoffed, “He always seems tough to me.”

The sidekick shook his head and then Dick uttered, “You know this is a crazy conversation right?”

Clark winced and suggested, “Maybe I should come back to the Manor with you, to tell Alfred and apologise.”

Dick chuckled softly, “You really know how to beat yourself up, don’t you.”

Clark harrumphed, and smiled, “So you don’t think it’s a good idea.”

With affection shining in the younger man’s eyes, he chided, “No Clark, it goes without saying, Alfred knows it was an accident, he knows you’d never hurt anyone on purpose, especially Bruce.”

He watched as Clark stared at Dick mutely. He knew Dick didn’t know the ins and outs of their disagreement, but Bruce understood why Clark questioned his feelings for him. He cared about him, he was his best friend, but obviously, Clark wanted more than that. He wanted something sexual, knowing his friend; he wanted something romantic from him. 

While he’d been musing, Clark and Dick were saying their goodbyes, and now Superman was heading for the cafeteria exit. For a second, Bruce considered staying at Dick’s side; maybe he could find a way to contact his crime fighting partner. However, that option was nixed as he felt that strange tug as before, and he was drawn down the corridor as before. He saw Superman’s figure ahead and Bruce followed him back into sickbay. 

Inside the hospital room, he saw Superman looking over his comatose form again. From his body language, Clark was feeling responsible again. Bruce approached from behind, and then looked over his own body. He wondered if it was possible to get back inside his body. Obviously, he needed to return to his body before he could wake up. He reached out and tried to inhabit his own arm. He tried a couple of times, but his presence just kept passing through it. He groaned in exasperation. Nothing was ever simple was it?

Then he observed as his best friend leaned in and kissed his forehead tenderly. “I’m sorry Bruce, for everything.”

Bruce swallowed hard at the heartfelt words and the gentle kiss.

Then Superman straightened up, and then he left the room. Bruce sighed, “Oh Clark.” and then suddenly he was being tugged along in Superman’s wake.

~*~

There was a vortex of air that he felt caught in, that he had to close his eyes against the cyclone. When he could open his eyes again, it was to find he was at Clark’s apartment in Metropolis. He realised the vortex had been Clark super-speeding. He watched as Superman disappeared behind a door. He wasn’t tugged along this time. Clark’s apartment wasn’t big enough for them to be too far apart. 

Bruce sighed, though he couldn’t imagine air coming out of his bodiless form. 

This was madness. If he’d been half dead instead of a coma, he might’ve thought he was having an out of body experience. Although technically whatever this was, it was an out of body experience. He remembered Clark touching his hand as he lay in the hospital bed. It seemed that might be the cause of his connection to Clark, which kept him in Clark’s radius. Maybe it was a Kryptonian thing. Yet he’d taken the time to read up on as much about Krypton as he could over the years, yet of course, he couldn’t know everything about the intricacies of being Kryptonian. 

Again, he started to wonder how he could make contact with Clark or anyone else for that matter. He walked over to the desk in the corner of the living room. He reached for a pen but again his fingers went straight through the object. He wondered if it was a case of willpower. Arrogantly, he thought he should be able to apply his great willpower to moving a pen. He tried again. He winced at being thwarted, and then his gaze found a digital framed display on the desk. 

He watched the display change over; one image was of a gangly teenaged Clark with his parents standing proudly together. Bruce smiled with fondness at the image. Another was Clark with the younger members of his family, Supergirl and Superboy in their civilian garb, the next photo was of his Daily Planet family, Lois, Perry and Jimmy with Clark wearing his glasses. Next was an image that Clark must’ve taken, because he wasn’t in it but it showed their team the Justice League enjoying a celebration from about two years ago, everyone was together but dressed casually. 

The image changed, and Bruce’s breath caught for a second, the photo was of him. It was caught during a moment of unguardedness, it showed him talking to Clark outside the Daily Planet Building, the rotating door in the background, and they both had genuine smiles on their faces as they shared some amusement together. The photo was professionally taken, Olsen maybe. He hadn’t known Clark had this.

His focus was taken as a shoeless Clark returned padding out to the living room, dressed casually in jeans and a snug black t-shirt. Clark’s gaze found the image, and he sighed. He walked over and he caressed Bruce’s face on the image with his fingertip. Then the image changed back to his parents again. Clark shook his head and uttered, “Just get on with it Clark, it wasn’t meant to be.”

Bruce watched him intently. He knew he cared, and after the other night, he knew that Clark considered him as more than just a friend. It had been a shock when Clark had tried to kiss him. He was his best friend but he couldn’t figure out what he’d ever done to make Clark feel this way. Clark had given him his unassuming affection and his quiet faith and respect, but what had he given to Clark, apart from his fellowship, he didn’t know. 

He’d given him his trust too, yet did Clark understand that. Did he understand how special that was? 

As he pondered, his friend went to the refrigerator and grabbed a can of soda, and then he collected up his laptop, and then sat down on the couch. He opened the can, and took a swig. Then he set the can down. He opened his laptop, and began working on something. 

He just observed his friend for a while. He wondered what he was working on, but then he realised it didn’t matter what he was writing; his own focus should be solely on his own predicament. He wondered if someone with magical or psychic abilities could feel his presence. If they could, how would that return him to his body? He didn’t know the answer. The other problem with that idea was the previously experienced connection to Clark. To get the opportunity to find out, Clark would have to go to someone who had those abilities. But why should he, when as far as Clark and everyone else was concerned he was just in an induced coma, any problem would be medical and he already had the best of doctors looking after him. 

He wondered how he could possibly get Clark to go see someone. He didn’t know how often Clark spent time with J'onn or Zatanna. Honestly, apart from when they were on a mission, Bruce only thought about what Clark was doing when he was with him. His other friendships didn’t concern him. 

He thought about his teammates, he wondered if any of them would turn up at his sickbed. He cringed. He highly doubted it, unless there was a good reason. Though he counted them as friends, and they counted him as a friend, he believed, he realised that apart from his family, it was only Clark that he could imagine turning up just to check up on him. 

His gaze found his best friend as he reached for his can of soda and had another sip. Suddenly, Clark’s phone rang, and it made him jump. Clark rolled his eyes at himself, and then answered the phone.

Bruce stared at his friend, his brow creased and he shook his head in bafflement. How the hell did that kind of thing happen anyway? His friend had super-hearing, supersonic fast reflexes, and he was invulnerable, so nothing should scare him. Certainly not a phone ringing. 

He watched as Clark slouched back a little into the couch, and his bicep curled nicely as he held the phone. Then he was saying, “No, I’m writing from home.” then he rolled his eyes again, “I know I could be at the office in a minute… I just…”

He huffed, “Lois, you do realise that I might just appear in front of you, as far as you’re concerned but I still have to make the trip myself, I might be fast but I’d still be running or flying the distance.”

Bruce’s eyes widened. Yes of course, he realised subconsciously that he had fallen into the same trap as Lois. He only considered the outcome of Clark’s speed, not the effort he put in. 

Clark groaned and reached for his soda again. He said into the phone, “Yes I have got a story but…” he pooched his full lips, and conceded, “Okay, yes it’s about Batman… no, you get all the Superman stories, I should be able to have Batman when I want him…” Clark winced at his own words. 

He swallowed hard as he realised Clark’s innuendo. Then he wondered if Clark was really going to write about the incident today, he couldn’t believe Clark was going to tell the world that Batman was in a coma. He always read Clark’s articles, yet he’d never acknowledged to himself how often Clark wrote about him. As he thought it over, he wrote about the other members of the League too, and always in a flattering but balanced light.

His friend sighed into the phone and said dourly, “Yes I was there.” he took a breath, “Lois, Bruce got hurt… shit… it was my fault… a coma.” Clark rubbed his palm over his face, “I know.”

He saw the turmoil in his friend was unabated. He wanted to chide him for taking the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Clark said quietly, “No, I’m writing about how he fought Joker’s gang alone, and how the Joker and his gang are behind bars again.” He sighed, “Yeah I’m alright… I know you know.” 

Bruce wondered what Lois Lane knew, did she know her friend was attracted to him, did she know what it was that Clark felt for him.

His friend smiled bravely, “Okay, bye Lo.”

He ended the call, and put the phone down. Then he glanced across the room as the image display was showing Bruce’s photo again. He groaned loudly, “Oh Bruce, you beautiful bastard, why couldn’t you have meant what you said.”

Bruce stared at him, surprised he’d called him beautiful, surprised that he cursed in the privacy of his own apartment, surprised at himself for feeling a bit of the chagrin from that night return. He muttered, “If I’d meant it I wouldn’t have said it in front of other people.”

Clark closed his eyes and swallowed, “I know, it was a foolish hope.”

He snorted softly, “It’s your greatest strength. I just wish I could’ve given you what you wanted.” 

His friend half smiled and shook his head, he returned to writing his article. Bruce on the other hand was shocked at his own wish. There was a big difference between wishing well for your friend, wishing him happiness, and wishing to fulfil your friend’s desire when that desire was you. 

He felt he needed to sit down; maybe that bang on the head had really caused some damage. 

 

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Guest 3  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77   
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,533   
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: While observing Clark all day, Bruce begins to realise something.

~B~ 

Bruce tentatively crouched down towards an easy chair. He was pleasantly surprised when the chair held him. He was relieved that he didn’t have to spend all his time standing up.

Now more at ease, sitting in an easy chair in Clark’s living room, his eyes found his friend again. He was still working on his article, and still had no idea that Bruce’s essence, his spirit, consciousness, whatever the hell it was, was with him, had no choice but to be with him. But not in the way, Clark must really want. Bruce wondered what he wanted; it was a mystery to him. 

He looked his friend over intently. Surely, if he were attracted to him, he’d have known about it sooner. Like maybe, the day they met, then again their first meeting had been an intense confrontation. Bruce had been so driven by the desire for justice that he’d been tempted to cross a line. Superman had stopped him, they’d fought, then Superman had made him explain himself, and when he did, Superman had helped him. Maybe the adrenaline that day had masked something else. That first collaboration had ended with a mutual respect, and liking and the prospect of future cooperation.

But what about the years since then? They’d become close, best friends as they’d admitted today. Surely, he would’ve recognised animal attraction if he’d felt it. His gaze lingered on his friend’s eyes, cast down as he looked at his laptop screen. They were pretty eyes that were for sure. He’d understood that by wearing his glasses, he hid those eyes that were so hard to ignore. His jaw was strong; his cheek bones high and he had a soft mouth. For a second, Bruce imagined what someone who did desire Clark would want him to do with that soft mouth. 

He shook his head of the thoughts. And his mind continued its exploratory path, he’d been told and he already knew he was too much into the mission, hell even the long line of women that he’d dated never distracted his focus. Annoyed him a lot of the time, but not distracted him. Was it possible that he’d been so distracted by the mission that he’d never noticed what was in front of him. That he’d never considered Clark as a potential lover.

His gaze returned to that soft mouth. 

He caught himself and winced, what was he doing, trying to talk himself into it?

~*~

A while later, Bruce watched his friend shut down his laptop, put it on his coffee table, and then sit back on the couch and stretch, he watched the snug t-shirt ride up, and expose a glimpse of abs. As with the rest of today’s observations, Bruce considered the act of stretching. Did Clark’s body tense up or get tired from long sedentary episodes, or was the stretching some automatic reaction by his body or even a learned habit. He was mildly annoyed that his afternoon had been spent bodiless, trapped with Clark, and without any interaction with his friend. He must be so bored; he was musing on all sorts of minute questions.

And some not so minute. He still wasn’t sure what his deal with Clark was. His friend was attracted to him; he knew that, he just wasn’t sure how he himself felt. He knew he’d never consciously wanted to sleep with him; share his company, yes, admire his grace and his mastery over his abilities, yes but never…

His thoughts were interrupted, as suddenly that vortex that he’d experience before whirled around him like a tornado. It came to rest, and he found they were returned to the hospital room. He watched Clark now dressed in his uniform again approach his bedside. He saw his friend focus on his comatose body for a long moment, and then Superman glanced at the readings of the machine monitoring his vital signs. 

He remembered thinking about how he could count on Clark to come and check on him. He’d been right. His best friend smiled, and whispered, “I’m here to say goodnight, in the morning I expect to see you awake and grumbling about getting back to work, okay.”

Bruce smiled and shook his head with fondness for his friend. He was slightly confused about why his friend would come to say goodnight so early. Clark stepped back and Bruce was back inside the vortex. Then they were back at Clark’s apartment. 

He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to being inside the vortex of Clark’s super-speed, but it was getting easier to regain his equilibrium afterwards. Still wearing his uniform, Clark went into the kitchen, scouted out his cupboards, and then a second later, he had prepared a bowl of cereal. Bruce scolded, “I know you don’t have to eat but that’s not a proper dinner.”

Clark sighed loudly and then went over to the couch, took a seat and switched on the evening news. He ate his cereal as he watched. At his own inactivity, Bruce groaned internally, he should be in the cave right now, or preparing for a patrol, not this. Again, his thoughts turned to musing his friend’s peculiarities. He used super-speed to make his bowl of cereal but then sat there and munched it slowly, seemingly taking his time. Wouldn’t the flakes taste the same to his super-senses if he ate them at super-speed? 

Sometimes when he was too busy, he wished meals could come in pill form, so he didn’t have to waste time eating. If he had speed as Clark did, he’d eat as quickly as possible.

He watched his full lips move slowly as he chewed. Then he caught himself again, why the hell was Clark’s mouth so interesting to him now.

God this was madness.

Bruce ran his hands through his hair, although technically he shouldn’t have any hair to run his intangible hands through it. Damn, with that thought the situation felt even crazier. Snowmen firing missiles at him didn’t seem so bad now.

He noticed Clark had finally finished his ‘dinner’. Alfred would definitely not approve of it or Mrs Kent, he added. His friend got up, and then put his bowl and spoon into the sink and ran some water, so they’d be easier to wash later, he supposed. He returned to switch the TV off, and then just like that, they were in the vortex again.

~*~

It had been a strange but at the same time exciting few hours. He had accompanied Superman on a patrol, which had consisted of fast decisive uses of his powers to save civilians, and stop criminals. Even as he’d always respected and believed he had Superman’s measure, tonight had shown him that even he underestimated his friend’s nous; on his own with no concessions to the rest of the League, he was the master of his own capabilities.

It was kind of rousing being witness to it without his own physical restrictions to focus on to distract him. 

Those times of direct action were interspersed with periods of utter lackadaisical carefreeness. Floating high enough to give the international space station a wave, or diving low skimming the waves of the Pacific, sometimes just playfully swooping and climbing in the sky. Waiting for the next call for help or siren. And all that time, Bruce had been by his side.

With that freedom, why did his friend choose to come and hang around in the bat cave with him? 

Bruce knew many people thought he was crazy, but he was beginning to think his best friend was crazy too. 

~*~

The vortex had finally returned them to Clark’s apartment again. Clark closed the window, and then he wandered off into his bedroom. After being at his side all day, Bruce instinctively followed. He came up short as he saw that Clark had changed out of his uniform and had just slipped into some boxer shorts. 

He found his gaze lingering on Clark’s naked muscled torso. It was strong, and subtle and very pleasing to the eye. Clark turned and headed into the bathroom. He saw that Clark had left the door open and he was getting his toothbrush out of its holder. From the new angle, Bruce admired his broad muscled back. 

It was strange; he knew that any Kryptonian here on Earth was stronger than anyone that Earth had to offer. He knew even a Kryptonian with the physique of a string bean could physically wipe the floor with anyone who wasn’t another Kryptonian. He knew Krypton used DNA manipulation, that pregnancies weren’t natural. Of course, Clark had let it slip once that his mother Lara’s pregnancy had been natural, defying convention, but saying that both Jor-El and Lara would’ve been products of selective breeding, so it wasn’t a surprise that their natural offspring would have the superior genetics. 

He watched on as Clark brushed his teeth at super-speed. He always did have a pearly white smile, now he knew why. Bruce smirked, and thought ‘An electric toothbrush too slow for you.’ 

Bruce’s eyes saw in the reflection of the mirror, Clark’s bare torso again, and he began to wonder if being a farm boy would’ve given Clark a strong physique anyway. His gaze slid down to Clark’s boxer shorts. They were loose but he could discern the curves under the material in the front and in the back. 

Clark suddenly spat into the sink, and then rinsed out his mouth, and it jarred Bruce out of his inventory. What was he doing? He’d had years to wonder and deliberate about these things, and he hadn’t, well not really, not for personal reasons. His gaze found Clark’s broad back and slid down to his pert ass again; he caught himself, shook his head, and left the bathroom. He let Clark have his privacy. 

~*~

As Bruce waited around, Clark’s cell phone chirped to life. Hearing it, Clark came out of the bathroom, and got it from the couch where he’d left it earlier in the day. He glanced at the screen and then answered it, “Hi, what’s wrong?”

He watched Clark’s eyes close slowly, and he groaned, “I don’t really feel like it.” As he watched on Bruce’s eyes lingered over his friend’s physique again. Clark continued his conversation, “I was going to go to bed.” Clark grimaced in response to whatever the person on the other end said. Then he said with chagrin, “I know that, but as I told you he isn’t patrolling tonight.” Bruce realised they were speaking about him and then both he and Clark mirrored each other’s grimace, thinking of the cause of why he wasn’t able to patrol tonight. His friend rolled his eyes, “That doesn’t mean I want to waste… oh alright, see you in a minute.”

He put down the phone and then groaned, “Damn that woman.”

Suddenly, they were in the vortex again, and then they were in a stairwell. Bruce looked around and saw Clark was dressed for work; he wore black suit pants, a white shirt and a black waistcoat, and most importantly his black framed glasses. He took a breath and then pushed the door open and entered a hallway, which led into the Daily Planet bullpen. There were a dozen or more journalists in there having their Christmas party. There were glasses in their hands and music coming from behind a partitioned off office in one corner. The party was already in full swing and Elvis crooned in the background.

Lois Lane spied him, and then came through the crowd towards him. Clark stretched out his arms to his sides and sighed, “Well I’m here.”

His friend and sometime writing partner smiled widely, “Yes, and you’ll thank me for it later.”

Clark grumbled, “I doubt it.”

She laughed and pointed at the office where the music came from, “The Chief is in charge of the music.”

Clark chuckled, “Always is.” 

He followed Lois into the crowd. Then a big fella with a slight paunch forced a beer bottle into Clark’s hand and slapped him on the back, “There you go Clarkie didn’t think you were going to come, thought you’d slinked off home like a sissy.”

Bruce watched as Clark forced a shy smile, “Thanks for that, Steve.”

Then a pretty blonde approached, and she gazed up at him, and said cheerily, “I’m glad you made it, Clark.”

Clark smiled, “Thanks Cat.” Then suddenly his bottle of beer almost slipped out of his hand, but Cat caught it in time, and pressed it back into his large hand and patted it, encouragingly.

He knew Clark had feigned his clumsy moment, though no one without the knowledge of his friend’s grace would see any falseness about the act.

Perry White appeared at the doorway of his office and called, “Hey-hey Kid, what shall I queue up next?”

“Whatever you think best Chief.” Clark replied.

“Aha Burning Love I think.”

“Great Chief.”

The Olsen Kid called, “Can I help you out Mr White?” with only a grunt from his editor, Olsen moseyed over to Clark, “Hey CK.”

Clark smiled, “Hey Jimmy.”

For the next half hour, Bruce watched his friend work the room, in negative of all the events that Bruce had had to attend when he didn’t want to. He watched him not call attention to himself, he watched him sip at the beer as if one beer was going to be too much for him. He watched him play at being a wallflower, not that he was a party animal really anyway. It was eye-opening witnessing the full-fledged mild mannered persona in its entirety. 

Time carried on, and the other partiers got drunk around him. Then suddenly, Cat reappeared carrying some mistletoe, and she declared, “Well, we’re not going see each other at New Year’s so…”

Bruce saw Clark cringe slightly, as Cat’s first port of call was obviously him. Clark bowed his head, and then raised his face when Cat was in front of him, looking hopeful. Clark inhaled and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He smiled timidly, and then dithered as he leaned in and nervously pressed his lips to Cat’s chastely.

All the drunken reporters leered and cheered. 

The kiss ended, and Cat appeared mildly disappointed but understanding, and then she turned around and there she found, the big guy Steve, and the Olsen kid standing there waiting for their turn with her. The look on her face revealed that she hadn’t thought her plan through. 

Bruce watched as a glimpse of the real Clark Kent flittered over his face as he turned away to hide a smirk. Lois came over, and love tapped him on the arm and then hid her own sniggers against Clark’s shoulder. Then they both turned to watch the sideshow.

Seeing how real and comfortable Clark was with Lois gave Bruce a feeling inside that he couldn’t put a name to. 

 

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: Guest 4  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,563  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Bruce realises what he wants, but will he get it?

~*~

After Cat had had enough and got to the point where she wouldn’t kiss anyone else. The mistletoe was commandeered by a man who Bruce didn’t recognise. He had decided to follow Cat’s example and do a circuit of the bullpen. 

He was obviously very tipsy, and whether that tipsiness had pulled him out the closet or not, after a few chaste pecks with the females, he made a reach for the big guy Steve, but after a brief moment of shock, Steve pushed him away grumbling, “Get off me you…”

Everyone turned and stared. Steve defended himself, “What… I’m not letting another man lay a smacker on me.”

Cat grumbled, “Could’ve told me I had a choice Lombard.”

The other reporters chuckled.

The other man glanced around the room a little bleary eyed, and then he spotted Clark, and he sidled over to him, and he murmured, “How about it Kent, show him what a real man looks like.”

Clark glanced around at his co-workers, and a little defiant curl came to the corner of his lips, then he met the other man’s gaze. He adjusted his glasses, and then he leaned in and he kissed the other man. The air was full of gasps and murmurs. The other man’s eyes widened as if he didn’t think Clark would take up his challenge. Then the guy groaned a little, closed his eyes, and deepened the kiss a little more. 

Bruce’s own eyes widened seeing his friend kiss another man. He remembered Clark trying to kiss him a few nights ago. He felt that unnameable feeling again inside him. He watched as Clark ended the kiss. Clark glanced around the bullpen again, and then he returned his gaze to his kissing partner. Clark smiled shyly, and the man returned the smile brightly. He whispered, “I didn’t know you had that in you Kent.”

Then as he moved on, he uttered, "I'll catch up with you later."

His friend watched the man go in silence, and then he snorted softly.

Clark glanced around again, and then he wandered off to a quiet corner. Bruce followed him over, and so did Lois. Clark took a seat next to a window, and Lois leaned back against the nearest wall, sipping beer from a bottle. She eyed Clark silently for a minute and then she uttered curiously, “What was that, I thought you were saving yourself for the lord of the manor?”

Hearing that assertion from Lois Lane, that Clark had been saving himself for him, his heart missed a beat, and he glanced from Lois to Clark with astonishment. 

His best friend laid his head back against the back of the seat and shook his head. “I wasn’t saving myself… I mean nobody else measured up so I haven’t bothered for a while…” He laughed hollowly at himself, “It didn’t matter in the end anyway...”

Lois’ chest rose and fell, she winced in sympathy, and then she had another swig of beer. She shrugged, “Maybe he’s been playing the ditz too long and he’s become one. He’d be lucky to have you.”

Bruce glared unseen at the feisty reporter. 

His friend tutted softly, “No he’s not, he’s gorgeous, brave, and brilliant.” He uttered, “It’s me. He just doesn’t want me, that’s all.”

He swallowed hard at his friend’s loyal rebuttal and his sad declaration. Then Lois declared, “You’re gorgeous, brave and brilliant too.”

Clark lifted his head, met the beautiful brunette’s gaze, and murmured, “That describes you too.”

Lois pushed herself off the wall, and came and sat on the arm of the chair, Clark was sitting on. A little on the road to tipsy herself, Lois gazed down Clark, she caressed his cheek and asked softly, “Why was it we never got it together?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows in surprise, he knew there’d been that press hype about Superman’s girl, and he knew they’d been close a long time, but he’d never thought there was an actual question about why they weren’t together. Clark blinked slowly, and then he pulled her off the arm of the chair and onto his lap. They ended up in a sitting down version of the bridal carry. 

He felt nervy as he watched them, so comfortable and close.

Lois gazed softly at him, and Clark reached out and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear tenderly. “It was something about you not wanting to come before the rest of the world.”

She leaned her forehead against his, and uttered, “Really… and you agreed to that…?”

He leaned in and kissed her, not chastely yet not passionately and he whispered, “Because with you Lois, I know there’d be no halfway.” 

She sighed, “Smallville.” And tried to close the gap between them again. However, Clark backed off, and said, “You’ve been drinking Lo…”

“And you don’t want to take advantage of me.” 

“I don’t want to ruin what we have now.”

She hugged him tightly, “You’re a great friend.”

Clark nodded and affirmed, “I always will be.”

Lois wiggled out of his lap and then turned back and grinned, “C’mon and protect me from any mistletoe carrying lechers and take me home.”

Her friend smiled and then got up, escorted her home.

~*~

With Bruce dragged along, Clark had returned home to his apartment after seeing Lois to hers, and Bruce had watched him slip into a pair of pyjama bottoms, before getting into bed. It turned out that Clark didn’t wear the matching pyjama top in bed, though of course he wouldn’t get cold anyway. 

A couple of hours later, Bruce had figured out a new brand of torture. Watching someone sleep, when you couldn’t yourself. It wouldn’t be so bad if he had something to occupy his mind other than his best friend. 

It also turned out that Clark didn’t snore. Which Bruce found was a relief, not that he could figure out why that would bother him apart from tonight of course. He observed that Clark drifted off to sleep on his back, but after an hour or so, he turned over in his sleep and ended up on his stomach. Bruce wondered if a sleeping partner taking up bed space made any difference to his nocturnal manoeuvres. 

He uttered into the night, “You’re probably a cuddling type aren’t you, Clark?”

Clark huffed softly against his pillow. 

Bruce smirked, and goaded softly, “You probably thought I’d let you cuddle me after you’d had your wicked way with me, didn’t you.”

He watched as Clark’s big body squirmed under the sheets, and his focus darted back to Clark’s face as his friend moaned softly, “Bruce…”

His eyes widened with disquiet as his friend uttered, “Yes…” he squirmed again, “…Bruce.”

Then he turned over again, and the sheet slipped from his body. His muscled chest arched up and then own his hand found his crotch. Intently, Bruce’s eyes found the bulge there in his pyjama bottoms. He knew his friend was still asleep, and he could plainly see that he was having an erotic dream about him. 

He remembered Lois saying he’d be lucky to have Clark, and now watching this display, Bruce questioned his own judgement. Anyone… anyone with an ounce of taste would want what Clark had got. As a person Clark was everything good, decent, kind, and clever, as a man he was tough, courageous, and trustworthy. On top of all that, he was sexy too. 

So why didn’t Bruce want him. Why did he refuse a kiss, when for his façade, he’d kissed a hundred women that were worthless compared to his best friend? 

With curiosity, he wondered what his friend dreamed they were doing to each other. He remembered Clark saying he hadn’t for a while, Bruce didn’t know how long a ‘while’ was. He also wondered how often Clark dreamed of him. It shouldn’t matter, but for some reason it did all of a sudden. He watched Clark’s hand leave his crotch and it twisted into the sheet beneath him. With his super-strength, you’d think he would rip the sheet, but he didn’t. 

Clark panted softly, “B, oh god Batman.”

In response to that call, Bruce felt something click deep inside him, and he stood up. He was incorporeal, he didn’t have a body, but he felt a coiling tightness inside. As he watched, he knew instinctively if he’d been in his body, he’d have had an erection right now. 

He wondered if he was corporeal, would his cock lead him to that writhing beautiful body on that bed, or would his infamous willpower be enough to deny his arousal.

Suddenly, Clark awoke; eyes suddenly alert and Bruce saw him still, and then listen to something. Then suddenly, they were in the vortex again. When it stopped, he found that he and Superman were on a dark rooftop. He followed Clark’s line of sight as Superman uttered, “Batman…?”

From under the black cowl, another’s voice said lowly, “I can’t do the rasp as well as him.”

Superman blinked, and then smiled in recognition, “Dick, what’s this all about?”

His sidekick uttered, “I just thought, Joker and his gang probably saw Bruce go down, so I wanted to make sure everyone still believes that Batman is on the streets.”

“Good idea.” Bruce and Superman said at the same time.

Dick smiled at the commendation, yet only hearing it from one of them. 

Superman’s eyes slowly took in Dick in the Batsuit. Then he licked his lips and turned away. Bruce frowned at the lingering look his friend had just given his protégé, and then he realised Clark’s predicament. He’d been halted in the middle of an erotic dream about Batman and now moments later, Batman was standing in front of him. Bruce licked his lips, wondering if Clark was still hard for him. The blue suit was tight; however, Bruce knew that tightness could be keeping things tucked away.

Roughly, Superman cleared his throat, and then asked Dick, “So you called for me, I thought there was trouble.”

Dick shrugged, “No. Well I thought… well I know you sometimes come and hang out with Bruce so… you wasn’t busy were you?”

“Actually I was in bed…” Superman explained.

“Oh, sorry.” The younger man said contritely.

Superman reached out and cupped his shoulder, “Hey, it’s okay.” He soothed.

Dick smiled, “I called up to sickbay, there’s no change with Bruce yet.”

Superman’s hand on his shoulder, changed to his thumb caressing the armour of the Batsuit. He uttered, “I know, I popped in earlier, before I went on patrol.” His chest heaved, and he said with self-rebuke, “I still can’t believe I’m the one who’s done this to him.”

Being a lot more tactile than Bruce is, Dick reached out and pulled Superman into a hug. “It’s going to be okay Clark.” he cooed.

Superman hugged the other man in return. Bruce watched them, wishing that he had the same kind of openness as two of his closest friends did. Then he watched Superman’s eyes close, as he enjoyed the closeness and then his hand caressed the back of the cowl. Slowly, Clark and Dick pulled away, they met each other’s gaze, and Clark was still caressing the cowl and then Clark’s eyes dropped to Dick’s lips. The young man stared at the hero that he admired so much, and his breathing slowed.

That unknown feeling bubbled up inside Bruce again stronger than before, it almost screamed in his mind. He unconsciously slipped into Batman’s rasp as he warned, “Don’t even think about it Clark.” He saw Clark’s eyes widen, as he continued, “It’s not me, don’t fool yourself.”

He saw Dick’s frown as he wondered softly, “Clark?”

Superman dropped his hands away from Dick’s cowl covered head. He bowed his head and muttered, “Sorry, I’m sorry Dick.”

With quick recognition, his sidekick shook his head, and asked in awe, “You, and Bruce…?”

Lifting his gaze, Superman stared at him mutely, and then he confessed, “No, just me.”

Recovering from the moment swiftly, a small smile quirked Dick’s lips, “Are you sure it’s just you, I mean it would explain so much.”

Sadly, he nodded, “I’m sure Dick.”

~*~

The vortex returned them to Clark’s apartment. Clark paced his bedroom wearing his uniform for a few moments. He muttered to himself, “Smooth move Kent. What were you thinking?”

Though the incident had rattled him somewhat, he soothed, “You were letting your emotions confuse you, your guilt, the Batsuit, and your dream.”

Clark stopped pacing and he mumbled, “The dream, god.”

His friend grimaced, and then in a blur, he was out of his uniform. Naked, he moved across the room, and picked up his discarded pyjama bottoms. Bruce couldn’t help his eyes travelling over Clark’s naked body. His ass now bare, was superb. Clark found wetness on his pyjama’s crotch, emissions from his erotic dream. He slung the pyjamas down in annoyance, and then turned towards his bed. Bruce’s chest heaved as he got a full frontal. Even almost flaccid now, Clark’s endowment was obviously generous. 

He watched his naked best friend climb back into bed. He remembered the twist of emotion he’d felt seeing Clark almost kiss the closest thing to it being him. He started to realise what the emotion was.

Clark was back under the covers now, and his eyes were close. Bruce approached the bed, and took a seat on the edge. He wanted to reach out but knew it was a waste of time. He murmured softly, “You dream about me, Clark. You want me…”

His best friend sighed.

“Maybe I’ve been a fool.”

“B…” Clark sighed.

He leaned over slightly and he whispered, “Your mouth looks soft and inviting.” Clark licked his lips. “You want me to kiss you.”

Clark sighed, “Yes.”

“You should be mine.”

“Yours…” 

Bruce’s eyes widened as Clark seemingly answered his questions. He couldn’t have heard him. “Clark…?”

His friend groaned, “Bruce, please kiss me.”

His mind whirled. If Clark could hear him, why didn’t he know he was there? The answer came to him, as he remembered the other incidents during the day. He remembered being on the rooftop as Clark appeared as though, he was going to kiss Dick. Clark had backed off when he’d told him to. He remembered being in the cafeteria and telling Clark not to reveal his pass to his sidekick, Clark had listened then too. When he’d spoken to him the rest of the day, he’d reacted as though Bruce was his subconscious. 

For a moment, he smiled, at the thought of Clark’s subconscious having Batman’s voice.

He shook his head. All this time, all day if only he had tried to talk to Clark directly, explained what he was experiencing, it could’ve been sorted out ages ago.

Clark hummed through full sensuous lips, “You’re a tease.”

Bruce knew he should resolve the issue right now, but after his own revelations, he wanted Clark to know something. He said huskily, “When I wake up, I want you to kiss me with that mouth.”

 

 

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

TITLE: Guest 5  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,720  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: After Bruce’s self-discovery, he and Clark share something intimate.

~*~

He watched his friend, relaxed, almost sleepy, and wallowing in a fantasy, a fantasy about him. Except it wasn’t a fantasy, it was real. Disembodied, Bruce gazed longingly at his best friend laid in bed. He was naked under the covers, and Bruce wished it hadn’t taken this accident, this coma for him to come to his senses about his friend.

His friend whimpered, and he stretched out a little, “Yes.”

He was supposed to be the world’s greatest detective, but he hadn’t seen the value in what could be his.

“Right now, I want to see you… finally.” He whispered to his friend.

With his eyes closed, Clark breathed, “See me.”

“Touch yourself for me, Clark.” He requested.

Clark swallowed hard, and then he let his fingers trail to his chest, his nipples… he groaned.

Bruce asked, “Are you sensitive?”

“I guess so.” He answered breathily.

As far as Clark was concerned, this was all in his mind, so he hadn’t bothered moving the sheets. Now, Bruce told him, “Lift the sheet away.” The bridge of his nose crinkled in consternation. “Do it.” he ordered. 

Clark mewed in response but then he pulled the sheet down. He shoved the sheet off with his feet. And then Bruce saw him laid out and naked on the mattress. His hair as black as the darkness, his lips soft and open as he panted. Even in the dusky light, his smooth skin and strong muscle was highlighted. His finely muscled thighs were parted slightly. He saw that Clark’s ‘fantasy’ had reawakened his erection and it was growing heavy against his belly. He’d been right it was generous.

Bruce hummed, “You are beautiful. Why didn’t you make me see you were so beautiful before?”

Clark writhed gently at the praise that his mind accepted without concern, because he wanted it, he longed to hear that praise speak with Bruce’s voice.

“Touch yourself again. Show me what you wanted to give me, show me what I’ve been missing.”

His friend ran his hand over his torso, his strong chest, his defined abs, his lower belly… “Yes.” Bruce urged, “Stroke it for me.” Clark whined softly, and he took himself in hand, and began stroking.

Bruce observed. It was one of his skills, though until now he’d been focused ahead, always ahead to the next task or mission, never using his peripheral vision, never seeing what was beside him. Now he had turned and now his focus was on him, only him. He asked huskily, “Yes, that’s for me, isn’t it?”

“Yes baby.” Clark moaned as he stroked the length of hard flesh in his grasp.

Bruce watched him intensely, and then his gaze lowered to the shadow between his thighs. He ordered, “Spread your thighs, and let me look at you.”

Clark let out a little gasp and then he did as he was told, and Bruce got the visual. He murmured, “That’s so nice.” 

His friend uttered, “Uh?”

“Your ass looks good enough to eat.” He purred.

Clark’s head pressed back into his soft pillow, and he groaned. 

“You like me saying that huh?” He asked gravelly. “Do you want me to play with it?” 

His friend squirmed a little against the mattress. 

He told him, “Play with yourself, down there.”

He saw Clark’s frown, but then he followed his command and he licked his finger and then pressed it down there, as he continued to jerk his hard cock slowly. Clark mewed softly, and Bruce moved, and he climbed onto the bed to watch. God it was a sight to see, watching his friend turned on for and by him. He watched the shallow thrust into his ass by his finger. Roughly, Bruce asked him, “You want my cock in there, huh?”

Clark let out a huffing sound and his brow creased at the question, and he shook his head gently against the pillow. Obviously struggling as the words of a fantasy didn’t fit his real desires. Bruce’s eyes widened at the nonverbal denial. He felt his own arousal ratchet up a notch. The preference clear. The dismay at opportunities gone astray quaked through Bruce’s body, lost, but the chance not barred. He licked his lips with anticipation and inquired, “You want me to give you my ass, don’t you?”

His friend arched up, and his stroking fist on his cock quickened its movement. It was the only confirmation he needed, and Bruce groaned shakily under his breath, “Yes Clark.”

He wasn’t surprised by his own desire, he’d always understood his own needs, he’d just never met anyone that he trusted enough to let go of his control. He gazed at his best friend, so needy and so wanting and he knew with certainty that he’d been too focused on the mission to see the partner that he’d always needed had been by his side for some time now.

He remembered at the Foundation the other night, the kids saying they knew they were close because they always stood next to each other. Why hadn’t he noticed himself that they gravitated towards each other? Why hadn’t he seen that everything that he needed was right there beside him all this time?

Bruce crawled forward on the bed, and his mouth hovered over Clark’s cock. He gazed at the length of aroused flesh as Clark pumped it with long hard strokes, he wished he could take it into his mouth, and taste it right now. God he needed to taste it. He growled softly, “I want to taste you.”

His best friend cried out and his body arched, his hips thrust up, and his pleasure came spurting out, as he pumped and pumped. It landed over his stomach. Bruce watched the marvellous sight. Clark came to rest on the bed, gasping for air that he shouldn’t need.

He wanted to lick it off his stomach but he couldn’t, the circumstances denied him so he crawled further, and he straddled his friend, so close they should be touching. He leaned forward and gazed down at the gorgeous face of his best friend. His lips still open and sighing, “Bruce.”

All of a sudden, Clark’s hands jumped away from his own body, and his eyes flew open and he cried, “What the hell?”

Bruce gazed down at him in shock. Did Clark feel his presence? He asked gravelly, “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Clark panted, his hands were still in mid-air but his hips grinded up instinctively. Bruce groaned as he actually felt the movement beneath him. Clark licked his lips, he gazed towards his face, and he asked warily, “Bruce?”

He asked so close, “Can you see me, Clark?”

His friend’s hands lowered, and met his hips. Then he nodded slowly, “I can see your aura, like infrared.”

“No features.” He assumed, and he sat up, still in his lap.

“No. Oh god Bruce it’s really you, how?” Clark asked with wonderment.

He explained, “It happened when you touched my arm in the sickbay, it somehow pulled my consciousness out of my body.”

“When I touched you… That was this lunchtime, so you’ve been with me all day?” 

Bruce nodded, “All day and all night.” and still feeling the pressure between their two forms, even the softening hard length trapped down there. He moaned softly and wiggled gently onto it. 

Clark’s eyes widened, and then he scrambled away. Naked, he went and stood over by the window and shook his head to himself. Bruce stayed kneeling on the bed, but he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Over his shoulder, he asked distraughtly, “What’s wrong, what’s wrong, what’s right about this?” 

He nodded and soothed, “It’s alright Clark, I know you’ve been blaming yourself for my injuries, but don’t, it was my own pride that made me make the mistake, not you.”

His best friend nodded, still without looking at him. Then he said roughly, “I don’t understand this.”

He chuckled, “Neither do I but…”

Clark turned around and glared at him. He said steely, “No I mean, you rejected me… the other night, and I accepted it. I was embarrassed but I accepted it, but now…” he motioned to the bed, “What the hell was that all about?”

He was quiet; he didn’t know how to explain himself. Then Clark shouted, “Well…”

He winced, and then Bruce realised Clark couldn’t see his face; he only knew he wasn’t answering. He took a breath and climbed off the bed, he touched his shoulder, and he tried to explain, “I’m sorry that I embarrassed you when I rejected you. It was a shock, I never realised you felt that way about me.”

Clark's eyes widened, he muttered, “You don’t have to touch me, now I know to look I can see your energy pattern.”

Bruce dropped his hand away, “Sorry.”

Clark licked his full lips with nerves, “Go on.”

He tittered softly, “I didn’t realise at the time that I should feel that way about you.”

“Should…?” Clark wondered.

“I should’ve known; you’re everything that I need.”

Clark took a heaving breath, “You didn’t know that until today?”

Bruce’s gaze lingered over his friend’s naked body. His spent cock had wilted but not fully deflated. He murmured, “I had never seen you like this.”

His friend’s aquamarine eyes widened and then he glanced down at his own naked body. It appeared for a second, that he was going to cover himself bashfully, but he didn’t, he put his hands on his hips defiantly, “So you decided you liked what you saw tonight and…”

He admitted roughly, “There was no decision Clark, I just like what I see.”

Clark’s eyes closed and he confessed, “What I feel for you is more… more than that.”

Bruce motioned to the bed, “But it encompasses that.”

He breathed through his nose, “Yes but…”

He coaxed, wanting to hear him say more. “But…?”

Clark opened his eyes, “I can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“This isn’t right. I think you should go.”

“I can’t go anywhere. All day I’ve been by your side…”

He stepped away. He said, “Please just…”

He growled, “I mean it Clark, I’m somehow connected to you, I can only go where you can.”

Clark inhaled and exhaled. Then in a blink, he was dressed in his uniform, and then suddenly he was in the vortex again. They landed in sickbay. Superman approached his comatose body and then glanced around looking for his presence there. 

"I'm here." Bruce told him.

“I know.” Then he was all business as he asked, “Have you tried…?”

Understanding the question already, he revealed, “Yes, I tried to get back inside my body, before we left this afternoon.”

“And you said that you left your body when I touched you.”

“That’s right, just before you and Dick went to the cafeteria.”

Clark’s breath was gusty, “All that time, you…”

“Were observing you, yes. I didn’t have much of a choice. I was hoping you would visit someone who might’ve been able to detect my presence. I didn’t realise you could hear me until a short while ago.”

His friend shook his head with incredulity, and then walked over to the body on the bed. He gazed at the body, while saying, “Even then you didn’t tell me; you played with me instead.”

“I couldn’t help myself.” He admitted.

His friend whispered, “I don’t want to be played with Bruce.”

“I enjoyed watching you, but I wasn’t playing, I meant it, Clark.”

Clark swallowed hard, and his gaze found him, “So now you mean it.”

He knew Clark was confused, he’d told him the other day that he hadn’t meant the compliments that he’d given him that night. He was confused too. “I can only tell you what I’ve come to realise. Dick was right, I do act differently around you, I feel happier, I feel secure, and I don’t have to be on my guard with you. You’re my best friend, I know you don’t believe that I feel the same way, but I do. Now, after all this time, I find out you have something else that I want. I found out I desire you too. And I discovered that you want to give me, what I need.”

He saw Clark’s thoughts racing. He put his mind to rest, before the thoughts could be given voice. He said candidly, “I wasn’t playing when I straddled you. I wasn’t playing when I told you I want you to kiss me when I wake up.”

Clark reached up with his hand and ran his fingers through his hair with agitation. “I can’t… Not now. Let’s try to get you back in your body…”

“Then we can talk?” he urged.

“Let’s just…” he cut himself off, and then suggested, “Let’s try to reverse what happened originally.” 

He moved forward, “I don’t think it will work. When you kissed my forehead, it didn’t do anything.”

His friend groaned with embarrassment, “You saw everything today?”

“Yes.” he confirmed.

Then Clark looked alarmed, he asked, “You saw what almost happened with Dick.” He took a breath, “It was you that told me to back off?”

“Yes.”

Clark looked ashamed again, as fresh as it had looked on the rooftop. 

He consoled, “I also told you when we got back to your apartment, you were just confused.”

His friend shook his head again. Then he cleared his throat, and returned to business, “Okay, so simply touching your body didn’t work, but how about… were you touching your body too or me at the time?”

Getting the gist of where Clark was going with this, he nodded along, “Being in contact physically at your apartment made it so you can sense me, so do you think…”

“That it’s all connected to my aura…”

“Yes of course, your bio matrix force field protects your clothes and other people or objects close to you.”

His teammate nodded, “That’s right, I think maybe with your body being unresponsive, your own aura got drawn to mine when I touched you, and somehow got caught in the electro-magnetic field.”

“Like a magnet, and I’ve been orbiting you ever since.”

“Essentially.”

“And when I touched you on the bed, I connected to you again…”

“So if we make a circuit, your body, me and your aura, it might return you to where you belong.”

It was the only solution at the moment. “Let’s give it a try.”

Superman reached out, and Bruce took his hand. Feeling that presence, he gave it a squeeze. Clark blinked at him slowly. They gathered around the comatose body on the bed. Then he laid his other hand on the body in the bed, and then Bruce did the same. 

Suddenly there was darkness, and then there were distant voices all around him, and a noise coming from a machine. Then up close, he heard the voice of the guardian asking, “Is he going to be all right?”

Emil said, “It might take a while for him to come around fully. But the swelling has gone down, so that is encouraging.”

Dick’s voice was relieved, “Didn’t I say he’d make it…” then his voice turned fraught, “Hey don’t leave, Clark.”

“He’s going to get better, Dick.” The familiar voice said solemnly. “He doesn’t need all of us fussing around him.”

“He’ll want to see you.” his sidekick insisted.

His mind was suddenly alert, he couldn’t let Clark go, he needed to tell him something, but his body barely obeyed as he opened his eyes. Blearily, he gazed across to the doorway. Groggily, he mumbled, “Clark…”

Superman turned towards the bed, and swallowed hard, “Bruce.”

“Come here.” He requested. With reservation, Superman approached. Bruce mumbled, “Closer.” Superman leaned over and Bruce whispered, “When I get home, I’ll wait for you.”

Clark’s brow creased.

Bruce croaked, “Every night until you come to me.”

Superman’s eyes widened, and then he stood up straight, and then helpless Bruce watched as he left the hospital room. His gaze found Dick’s and then Alfred’s, and with impatience and eagerness he said, “Hello. When can I go home?”

 

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

TITLE: Guest 6/6  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 3,340  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Bruce waits for Clark to come to him.

~*~

It had taken a week, before he was allowed to go home. Now between the two of them, Alfred and Dick had forced him to stick to casework until he was one hundred per cent again. He had to smile about their convoluted thinking. He’d suffered a head injury, if he was going to have problems, the casework would’ve been too taxing at the moment too. 

He was grateful in a way, not only the signs of their care for him but also it gave him the chance to focus on the only thing that he could focus on at the moment anyway and that was his newly discovered romantic feelings for his best friend. He was sure once he’d secured him, he would be able to return his focus to his work. 

He was preparing to go to bed as Alfred placed a mug of cocoa in front of him; he sighed and sat down again. Dick made himself a sandwich, his sidekick asked, “Are you sure you don’t want one of these?”

Bruce replied, “I’m sure, the cocoa is enough."

Dick bit into his sandwich with relish, and asked casually, “Have you seen Clark yet?”

They both heard Alfred’s disgruntled sigh at him for talking with his mouth full. Dick had always had a healthy appetite. Dick chewed slowly, but said at the same time, “What… it saves time.”

Alfred shook his head, and then his gaze found Bruce. He wondered, “Why is it that Mr Kent hasn’t called by?”

He swallowed hard.

Dick answered for him, “They had an argument, but from what I gathered, it was Bruce with the issue not Clark.”

“I didn’t have an issue.” Even now, he didn’t want to reveal the details. “We just didn’t see things the same way… for a while.”

“Is this because Clark likes you more than friends?” Dick asked.

Bruce’s eyes widened and his gaze darted to Alfred to see his reaction. However, Alfred raised an eyebrow, “Oh I knew that he cared, Master Bruce. I always thought it was a shame that Mr Kent wasn’t female, because he would make such a good partner for you. Just as good as he is a friend to you.”

He took a breath, uncomfortable because without finding the right partner, he’d never had to reveal his proclivities to his guardian. Then his sidekick asked, “Is that why you don’t want him? I know you can’t control that sort of thing, but I agree with Alfred, I think you and Clark would be great together.”

Alfred cleared his throat, “That’s not quite what I said.”

Bruce looked at Alfred and asked searchingly, “But would you have a problem with it?”

His guardian searched his eyes in return, and then he exhaled, and revealed, “There was an old pal of mine in our unit, Charlie, he had a fancy for lads, but it didn’t stop him being a damned good soldier and a good friend.”

Bruce smiled relieved at his guardian’s reassurance.

Dick had followed the exchange, and he gasped, “What are you saying, Bruce?”

He admitted quietly, “Like I said, we didn’t see things the same.” he licked his lips nervously, “Now we do.”

“You and Clark?” his sidekick asked surprised, even though he’d endorsed the idea moments ago. 

“Not yet, we need to talk first.” He confided.

His sidekick laughed, “See, I told Clark that I could see something there.”

“Well you were right, Clever Dick.” He huffed, and then he stood up, “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

~*~

He lay in bed and he waited for Clark to come to him. He knew how much Clark cared about him, and he’d seen his desire enacted right before his eyes. He was sure Clark would come to see him soon. Yet it had been three nights now since he was released to go home from sickbay and he hadn’t come yet.

He watched dusk turn to night through his bedroom window. He sighed and then turned over on his front, ready to try to sleep. A few seconds after closing his eyes, his senses picked up on something. He opened them slowly to see a dark figure step through his balcony doors. He stayed still, and just watched with expectation.

The figure stepped forward, and the moonlight highlighted his features. Bruce saw his broad chest heave. Maybe he was nervous, or apprehensive, Bruce didn’t know. It was strange to think of Superman as nervous, though he’d seen him act the part at the Daily Planet. He continued to watch him as he watched him in return. He could make out that he was wearing civilian clothes. As he turned, and glanced back at the French windows, Bruce caught the outline of his glasses. 

He didn’t know why, but the idea that Clark had come to him, not Superman made him shiver. He saw his friend’s doubts. Bruce breathed raggedly in the quiet of the bedroom, and Clark returned his gaze to him. Bruce reached out, and he grasped and threw his sheet away from his body. He heard Clark’s quiet gasp as he saw him laid there waiting for him naked.

This wasn’t flowery words or declarations of love; they could come later. This was the declaration of what he needed. And from seeing him fantasize about him, it was what his best friend needed too.

Still they didn’t speak, and Bruce continued to lay there on offer.

Then from stillness came movement, Clark’s fingers found his shirt buttons, and he unbuttoned his shirt. Bruce watched intensely as first the shirt, then his shoes and socks, and then his pants were removed. He must’ve removed his boxer’s at the same time because as he approached the bed, he was fully nude. The shadow and the moonlight combined to highlight his muscled physique. He reached up and removed his glasses and he laid them on the night table. 

At the night table, Clark picked up the bottle of lubricant that Bruce had positioned there. Then he climbed on the bed. Bruce lay still, waiting with anticipation. His best friend’s strong fingers, caressed down his spine to the valley of his ass cheeks. Bruce breathed shakily, feeling that initial caress. He heard the cracking of the seal on the lube bottle as it was opened for the first time. He waited, and then a single slick finger breached his entrance. The first time it had been breached. He gasped softly against the pillow. He groaned, as it thrust slowly and then deeper. 

Again and again, then it was gone. 

He took a staggered breath as he felt the tip of his best friend’s erect cock at his ass. In his peripheral vision, he saw Clark’s large strong hand lower and brace against the mattress, and then he felt the pressure. He clenched his jaw as Clark’s cock breached his ass for the first time, the first time. It was slow but overpowering, he felt full, too full, and then even fuller. He panted and he whined. He wanted it, he needed it, but damn he thought it would feel better than this.

That big cock withdrew, and then pushed back inside; his ass clung to his cock. He felt overexposed, and he wished Clark would say something, anything. He heard only a gusty breath. Then Clark began thrusting. Bruce groaned and he took it. The pleasure he’d expected wasn’t there, but the experience of having his best friend inside him, fucking him made his own cock hard anyway. Then he heard an under the breath grumble, and then he heard a noise and then felt the trickle of more lube slide down between his ass cheeks, and over his balls. Then those powerful hands grasped his hips, raised them higher, upturning his ass, then the thrusting continued. 

Suddenly, he felt the first twinge of pleasure, and he cried against the pillow, “Ah yes.”

There was a low hum from behind him, then those hands held him there, and the cock thrust just a little bit harder in response to his cry. 

He cried out again. 

Yes. 

His disappointment minutes ago, became exhilaration as his body opened itself up to the pleasure brought by his best friend. He lay there still, enjoying the slow steady rhythm, until he felt the urge not just to receive the pleasure but also to take more of it. Instinctively, he pushed his hands against the mattress, and lifted his body onto his knees. 

Clark’s secure hands still held his hips. He took the deeper pleasure, and Bruce bowed his head low, and took his cock until sweat slicked his back.

Then those strong hands left his hips, and his cock stopped thrusting, though it stayed inside him, deep and throbbing. 

Bruce’s body screamed with neediness. He glanced back over his shoulder, and he saw the figure of his friend monochrome in the pale light. Clark’s body was tight with passion, his face stern. Bruce frowned, but Clark met his gaze endlessly. He didn’t know what his friend was thinking, or why he had stopped. He didn’t want him to stop. He licked his lips nervously, and then his body reacted reflexively trying to satisfy its need. He felt his ass spasm around the hard flesh. He thrust himself forward and then back onto Clark’s cock. He whined feeling the pleasure, and he did it again. 

Clark didn’t stop him, and so with no shame he bowed his head, his hair falling over his forehead and fucked himself with his best friend’s cock. His movement made the mattress squeak. Again and again, he rocked back for it, until Clark’s so powerful hand came around and took a gentle grasp of his throat, and forced him to raise his face. He could only see ahead of him and his own bedstead, he still didn’t know what Clark was thinking, but his hand around his throat sent a shiver of arousal through him. He panted, “Yes.” and he thrust back harder. Then all of a sudden, Clark began thrusting again, slowly but wholly. 

His best friend being in control of his pleasure made Bruce whimper, “Yes, Clark god yes.”

That hand on his throat was accompanied by a hand on his chest, and he was being dragged upright, his back pressed against Clark’s strong chest. He gasped, and he turned his head. Their eyes met and then Clark was taking his mouth desperately. Bruce returned the kiss, their first kiss just as desperately, opened mouthed and so eager. 

Moist lips parted, and Clark prayed, “Bruce.”

Bruce bit the words into those soft lips, “Please Clark, please.”

With understanding, Clark breathed harshly over his lips, and then he pushed him forward, back onto the bed. He held onto his shoulder, and he braced his other hand on the mattress, his body arched over his, his chest to Bruce’s back, and then he began moving again. Taking him completely. Bruce panted and keened as he surrendered his body to his best friend.

When Clark reached under him to his aching length, it was only moments until he coming on the sheet beneath them. He shook and he gasped, and Clark fucked him through it, until he came too with a drawn out moan. He withdrew quickly, and his warm come hit the small of Bruce’s back. Feeling it, knowing he was claimed by his best friend made him moan, “God yes.”

Spent, Clark slumped down beside him, and Bruce collapsed down to his elbows, and then met his gaze through sweaty bangs. There was a long silence between them. Then Clark whispered, “I didn’t think you were going to even speak to me.”

Bruce shook his head, and confessed, “I was waiting for you to say something.” He swallowed hard, “I started to get worried that you weren’t going to come to me.”

Clark licked dry lips, “I wasn’t going to until I overheard what you said to Alfred and Dick.”

He smiled meaningfully, “Overheard, you mean you were observing me without my knowledge.”

His friend squinted, “It’s not exactly the same Bruce, I was checking to see if you were doing alright. I didn’t play with you.”

Bruce met his gaze, “I wasn’t playing.” He motioned around them, “It was just a teaser of what I wanted from you.”

His best friend bowed his head and uttered, “Is that what you wanted, Bruce?”

He nodded, “Clark, yes.”

He glanced up momentarily, and then he licked his lips nervously, “You’ve never done that before.”

“No.” he admitted. 

Clark nodded along mutely. 

He offered, “Shall we get cleaned up, and then we can talk.”

His friend nodded again.

~*~

During the clean-up, they were quiet, and then they returned to Bruce’s bedroom. He went to put the bedroom light on, but Clark said, “Don’t… leave it off.”

He turned back. Then he glanced at the bed, wondering where to position himself, he didn’t want to presume too much. He caught Clark watching him, as Clark sat himself down on the bed. He took a breath and then he took a seat on the bed himself. He hesitated, and he sighed, “I guess I should try to explain.”

“Well, yeah.” Clark chuckled softly. “You went from not feeling anything, to wanting me to…” he swallowed hard, “…fuck you.”

He glowered half-heartedly, “I wouldn’t say I didn’t feel anything, I just…” his friend held his gaze, and Bruce harrumphed, and challenged, “You of all people thought my flirting as Brucie was real…” he shook his head.

Clark sighed, “When you finally hear what you want to hear come out of your desire’s mouth, it’s hard not to take it seriously.”

His eyes widened, hearing Clark actually say that he was his desire. He cleared his throat, “I didn’t know that at the time, Clark. I thought your affection for me was platonic.”

His friend glanced away and then back. “I was never going to say anything to make it otherwise.”

“Why?”

“Why…? Bruce, what was the point, my feelings didn’t affect your mission. They didn’t matter.”

It was hard, hearing that come out of his friend’s mouth. Although he had thought the same, as he had come to his own revelations. He confessed, “I’ve never known anyone worth the distraction.”

In the dusky light, he saw Clark’s jaw tense, and he nodded along disheartened.

Bruce amended, “I already let my friends distract me enough.” Clark met his gaze, and Bruce nodded, “When I was in that coma, I realised that you had the power to distract me. I spent the whole day just watching, and thinking about you, you fascinated me.” He let his gaze linger on him meaningfully, and he said, “Without the mission to focus on for once, I saw you, I really saw you, Clark.”

“And now you want me?” Clark murmured.

Bruce’s gaze found the mark on the sheets that had been wiped down but was still damp. He stated, “I think that was obvious, don’t you.”

His friend nodded along, and then he asked, “But what does it all mean?”

“You want a commitment, don’t you, I know you; I know you do.”

Clark closed his eyes and licked his lips slowly, “Commitment is my ideal…, but…” he opened his eyes and met his gaze, “I know that isn’t on offer…” he took a deep breath, “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, Bruce.”

His brow creased, he shook his head, and uttered, “No, no you shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

His best friend reached out and caressed his cheek, “Maybe, but I will, for you.”

There was silence between them; Bruce didn’t know what to say. 

Then Clark uttered, “I love…”

“No.” Bruce breathed, “Please don’t say it.”

Clark swallowed the last word. Then he nodded to himself. “So no L word. Okay.”

The idea that Clark was actually willing to censor his own words and feelings to have whatever it was Bruce was willing to give him, made Bruce’s heart ache. “I’m not good enough for you.”

His best friend’s brow creased, and he affirmed, “You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

Bruce cocked his head in an ‘Oh yeah?’ gesture.

Clark smiled that smile, that friendly best friend smile, that he’d shot his way through out their friendship. Then he shrugged, and replied, “Okay, you’re the best man that I’ve known that I also want to sleep with.”

He snorted, “Sleep with?”

His friend raised an eyebrow, “Fuck.”

Bruce groaned, he echoed, “Fuck.”

Clark laughed lightly. 

He shook his head and then confessed, “Do you remember at your apartment, when you thought I was a dream…” at Clark’s nod, Bruce continued, “I realised I was crazy not to want you. I like you, I respect you, I trust you, but I already knew that. That night I realised that you were desirable, and I saw how much you desired me…”

As his words hesitated, Clark urged, “And…?”

He smiled and shook his head, and went for analogy, “There’s this jigsaw…” Clark raised a querying eyebrow, and Bruce smiled, “I seem to have all the pieces, but until now I hadn’t the faintest idea what all of them together made a picture of.” He swallowed hard, “I’m smart enough to know what those pieces together should make, but I… I haven’t finished building the jigsaw yet.”

Clark inhaled and then exhaled, “You mean we have the friendship, caring, and the trust, and now we have the sex too…”

He gasped softly at that statement.

His friend frowned, “Don’t you want the sex?”

Bruce replied huskily, “I want the sex.”

“But you don’t want to call it all the L word.”

He admitted, “I don’t know if it’s the L word. I know it should be, but I can’t say it is… yet.”

His best friend gazed at him a long considering moment. Then he asked, “You want to be… friends with benefits?”

He remembered that Clark had said there was no halfway between him and Lois that it was friends or forever. He couldn’t believe Clark was offering even less than halfway to him. Maybe it meant he didn’t mean as much to him as Lois did or maybe it meant he wanted him more to settle for less. 

Bruce knew that a friends with benefits bargain was the easy solution to all this, but… “I know you Clark; you’d have me falling in love with you within a week.”

Clark sniggered softly and asked coyly, “A week, that long?”

He chuckled softly. “You’re right, you managed to shake me up, and make me need you within a day with no effort on your part.”

His best friend blinked slowly, and then asked, “Need, it’s me you need.”

Bruce sighed, “Yes, I’ve wanted… always known what I really wanted in bed. I never met anyone I wanted to give that power to, never…”

“Trusted anyone…?” Clark asked.

He met his gaze, and revealed, “But I had already found the person I trust.” He let out a gusty breath, “You said I was the best man you know who you also wanted to fuck. Well, apart from Alfred and Dick you are the person I trust.” He smiled crookedly, “You’re the most trustworthy man that I know that I also want him to fuck me.”

His trusted friend reached out, and caressed his jaw, “I love you.”

He winced, “I told you not to say it.”

Clark smiled, “I wanted to say it, and it’s okay, I’ll wait for your reply, no matter how long it takes, Bruce.”

Bruce took his hand and he kissed it tenderly. 

It might take another day, a week or even longer, but one day he knew he was going to say it, but not until he truly meant it. 

 

The end.


End file.
